It wasn’t an easy transition for me. I came from a background where everything I was supposed to believe was rolled out like a red carpet for me. I only needed to dance.

I’m an awkward dancer. I’m six foot tall and my husband isn’t a party guy. I’d often find myself alone on the carpet trying to figure out the beat of the songs. When the kids came along, we’d ring-around-the-rosy every Sunday and be appeased with doughnuts and life groups, but in the end, I felt exhausted from my shimmying to something that I thought I was supposed to get but just didn’t.

When I started opening my mouth about my questions, I was shocked to find many people on the carpet had the same ones as I did, but they chose to accept what worked and moved on. I have zero disrespect for these people, it’s just not me. I am not one to go with the flow if I’m not comfortable. I had to, in the end, quietly leave. Much to my inner narcissist’s surprise, there was no banner shouting “Andrea has left the building!” Nope, not even a phone call or an email. I was either that much of a disappointment or not important enough. Either way, it was an immense relief. (If not a bit terrifying. Now what?)

My New Building

No one was more shocked than I was to find that at my new tiny church God showed up even more strongly than he had before. I felt a sense of peace and belonging I had not felt in years. It’s a place where, in true Rachel Held Evan’s style, we all are called to the communion table. We don’t have an agenda to push. We have only God’s love and grace to receive.

This kind of message seems radical and hippy dippy to many more conservative folk. But to me, it reminds me of Jesus: a rebellious conviction to love everyone. (Unfortunately this kind of acceptance got him killed. But I get it. He was no longer able to live with the hypocrites. And that goes for me being able to live with my dual personality of wanting to fit a mold I just wasn’t cut out for.)

Getting clean with who I was felt so refreshing. But I had been warned about this kind of serenity before from my more conservative church: “It’s the devil.” And yet, having done an immense amount of spiritual work through 12 step, I knew this simply wasn’t true. In my 12 step, it is crystal clear that to not live a life of honesty and integrity is to drink, and to drink for many is to die. I was not willing to die in body or spirit. Instead, I chose surrender.

The Power of Surrender

I could go on and on about the power of surrender and what that means to an over-thinker like myself, but in a nutshell it means: I am not God, neither are you, how about we just lay down or guns and admit we don’t know everything? How about we let go and trust that each person has a God of their understanding to guide them to make decisions for themselves?

For me that is Jesus. But until he shows up at my door with a cappuccino and a doughnut, I’m not willing to tell all my other friends of faith that they are 100% wrong in who their higher power is and aren’t going to heaven “until they know the truth.” The path to destruction might be wide, and the road to salvation might be narrow, but that simply cannot be true of our hearts. Hell is happening NOW, with our minds too narrow and our compassion not wide enough. People are dying. People aren’t getting the healthcare they need. People are being sent to prison for making heart wrenching decisions for their children.

Surrender also means listening. In joining a new church, I asked question after question of my gay pastor. “How do you reconcile your sexuality with the Bible? How do you keep from creating a God of your own understanding?” These open questions and resulting communication was both scary and transforming. But in the mystery, like driving through fog, light came at the other side. In being patient in the dark, I felt more of God’s all encompassing love than I ever felt listening to straight up theology.

It also meant asking my friends about their feelings on abortion. I heard story after story about why they did, or did not, choose to terminate a pregnancy. Instead of feeling judgment or elation, I was led right back to surrender. And in doing so, I was overwhelmed again and again with the idea of dignity: That a woman must decide for herself what she can or cannot live with. That her life, and others’ lives, are as valuable as the one in their womb. And as painful as that is for me to admit to my inner evangelical, it’s what I believe now to be true. No one – especially a rich white man – gets to decide this.

I am not writing this to convince you on what you should or should not do with your life and your votes, especially if you disagree with me. But I am writing to you to consider asking yourself the very tough questions that I began asking myself a few years ago:

If your child came to you and told you he or she was gay, would you pound them with theology and Bible verses or would you wrap them in your arms and tell them you love them?

Do you really believe that everything written in that Bible is 100% without error? Because if you do, you have a lot of explaining to do. And if that explaining makes sense to you only from a place where, in our society today, straight white people win, would you consider that maybe, just maybe, it’s possible you are wanting to interpret something that best fits your view of the world versus real people with real struggles and needs?

Do you truly think that God stopped talking 2000 years ago when the Bible was shut and that we can’t possibly see God in people and situations outside the book of Revelation?

If your 16-year-old daughter comes to you pregnant, are you willing to tell her that she must have this child or face prison time?

None of these questions are comfortable, but they are real. Is our God big enough to handle them and have us talk to others with dignity and respect? Mine is. And for that I’m so grateful.

Conversations

I am being clear with you all because, like my decision to leave a conservative church, I can’t live with pretending to be someone I’m not. While on one hand I can’t stand what the internet has done to our culture (the polarization, the vamping, the lurking) I also am in acceptance of the fact that it’s not going away anytime soon. And so, with that in mind, I felt it important to be have my virtual life match up with my human life. Unlike the Andrea of old, who might have done this out of defense or wanting to fit in, the Andrea of now is doing it from a place of transparency and truth. Right or wrong, this is who I am. Maybe you are in a place I was and need to know that someone else is out there.

Consider this your virtual red carpet to dance in the unknown. To rub shoulders with other people and ask about their stories. To make decisions based on real human beings with hearts, not just theology, and begin to trust your journey.

Services at my new church start at 10. Perhaps you’ll join me at the table.

The Table reminds us that, as brothers and sisters adopted into God’s family and invited to God’s banquet, we’re stuck with each other; we’re family. We might as well make peace. The Table teaches us that, ultimately, faith isn’t about being right or good or in agreement. Faith is about feeding and being fed. – Rachel Held Evans

Happily Ticked Off Tip #53: When you get to know someone’s story, your heart transforms your head and not the other way around. Every time.

My book is available on Amazon. (Note: It’s a special ed journey… your kid doesn’t need to have Tourettes to relate!) Follow me on Twitter@AndreaFrazerWrites or on Facebook.

(Note: It’s a special ed journey… your kid doesn’t need to have Tourettes to relate!) Follow me on Twitter@AndreaFrazerWrites or on Facebook.

I write because it helps me make sense of the world. And it reminds me that there is always, always, something to be grateful for.

As a complainer in transition, it took me a few years of active work to truly get to a place of freedom on this subject. Do I have hard days still? Absolutely. Just ask Tuskany and my friend Annie who hears more play by play than Vin Scully at a Dodger game. But I don’t live in my negativity. I can’t. It’s too… uh… negative. Nope, in addition to gratitude is a chaser of reframing.

Take today for example. It was the first day off from subbing in quite a while. I had sooo much housecleaning to do. But I gave myself an hour to do the basics. And then I forced myself to sit at my desk to work on that pilot.

Ooooh, the office.

I won’t lie. My office still looks like a storage dump for Good Will for a Pinterest fail.

There’s the multi colored ceiling fan from 1987 that Punky Brewster has yet to pick up.

There’s this section of cubed “outgoing” projects flanked by a hot man in uniform and an old set of shutters that has yet to make it’s way to the curb.

There’s this section of photographs needing better storage boxes, a jewelry case desperately in need of organization and my gift wrap/gifts to give/very old dresser inherited from my son yet to be painted.

(Um, yes that IS a set of plastic drawers that houses my scarfs, belts and tights because, you know, the one day I get rid of it I will need to dress as a sixty’s character for school.)

Lest I forget, there is this beautiful secretary’s desk I scored for $40 last year. It only needs to be repainted! And, well, it needs to be combed through and made usable. This means throwing out old Christmas cards and organizing the individual sections with stamps, letters, cards and so on.

(Oooh, do you see my fabulous bathroom in the back? Do you like the “open shelving” I got going on? Don’t be jealous. At some point it’s going to have some amazing cherry curtain swag.)

Now before you think I’m being too self-deprecating, I have to say that I totally love my house. It’s got a 1950’s charm that just makes me smile every time I walk into it. It’s just I have chosen to surrender to the fact that I’m a busy busy busy working mom. I know I will organize this when I have time, but my script and my family are more important. When I sell this sitcom (and I’m determined to) then I can hire a maid and take more time to putter to my satisfaction.

Until then, I have learned the art of staging myself for success. Not unlike selling a home, I clean up what is most important so it’s more attractive for me to work, then gently ignore the rest. This means sweeping up quickly.

It means firing up the diffuser so it smells good and removing any junk from my fainting couch. (Minus my Doc Martins that give me great pleasure.)

And then I look up at those faces above my computer. And I know that, in the end, those connections are worth re-framing the stuff that doesn’t matter.

What are you willing to re-frame in your own life so you can work on your passion?

Happily Ticked Off Tip #52: Re-framing a thought or an action doesn’t keep the challenge from going away. Instead, it keeps you from focusing on it so you can move ahead with more positive actions.

My book is available on Amazon. (Note: It’s a special ed journey… your kid doesn’t need to have Tourettes to relate!) Follow me on Twitter@AndreaFrazerWrites or on Facebook.

If I’m standing in front of some noodles in Trader Joes, and someone pushes their cart next to me, my first reaction always is, “Let me move this out of the way for you.” This often happens before they’ve even asked me to scoot over.

If I’m in class giving instructions, and one kid raises his hands to ask about something that’s not even relevant, my first impulse is to feel pressured to get that question answered.

If I’m driving my kids to an appointment, and I decide to stop at the post office for stamps, I automatically get this push in my chest to go go go. I know they are just teenagers, and it’s not my job to work around them, but I feel that surge pushing me forward none the less.

I don’t give into this pressure with my actions, but inside it’s still there. An old flame that is no longer a raging fire but still burning with loyalty to toxic patterns. These flicks of negative light are traits that my old self would have called being considerate. But my newer, older wiser self knows what the real name for this is. It’s lack of self-worth that am not valuable enough to slow down and do something just for me.

Today in class, this point was brought home in a New York Times piece I read about Oprah Winfrey. In it she was saying how guilty she felt buying her first plane. It cost in the millions. But in the end, she unabashedly decided she was worth it. Hell, she’s the Queen. And if she says she’s worth it, she is.

It was my gentle reminder that I’m a queen, too. And queens don’t rush. They are busy, efficient and sometimes short with words, but they are not rushed.

Which is why I am sitting here, happily typing with just my bath towel wrapped around me. The tub water is stopped. My husband has gotten into bed and my kids are eating God knows what downstairs. I am doing what I love most and I won’t apologize.

And you don’t have to either.

Until next time,

Happily Ticked Off Tip #49: Slow down, not just to enjoy the roses, but to make a point that you, my dear, are worth every languid second.

My book is available on Amazon. (Note: It’s a special ed journey… your kid doesn’t need to have Tourettes to relate!) Follow me on Twitter@AndreaFrazerWrites or on Facebook.

As a recovering perfectionist, one of the biggest keys to my serenity has been to change what I can, let go of what I can’t change, and have wisdom to know the difference. Translation: Everything happens the way it’s supposed to. When I stop fighting it, and accept it, it’s easier.

I would not believe the above statement, except that lately I’ve been dealing with more chaos than I ever have, and yet there’s peace.

I can call it prayer and meditation. Or sleep. Or any of the things I listed in this blog. But a good chunk of my peace has come from reminding myself… literally reminding myself… “Hey , Andrea, this stuff that is happening at this very moment? It’s happening! The laundry! The last minute friend plans that got swapped. The dog barking at the mailman. The tv shoot three corners down that makes you feel crappy that you still haven’t sold your pilot because, oh… here’s a concept… you have not finished it! Oooh, new concept: Let the guilt go because you can’t change it. The only thing you can do is change your attitude!”

Besides the fact that my inner voice really needs to stop drinking so much coffee and shut up for once, the fact remains that there is one person and one person alone responsible for my serenity.

You guessed it! Me me me! Normally my favorite subject is me, myself and I. But not when I’m responsible for the change in my reaction to life. Which, of course, I always am. Every. Single. Time.

That’s a lot of change.

But, not unlike this giant metal container my husband has in the corner of our bedroom, a drop of change here and a drop of change there adds up to quite a bit of treasure in the long run.

Tonight, as I start my bath, my default setting is to go a bit glassy eyed with the prospect of work yet again tomorrow. With getting ready for camping. With paperwork due to a new school district and how again will I manage my daughter’s latest social commitment combined with my picking up my son and his friend after school?

But instead I will remember that everything happens perfectly.

I can only get so much done in a day.

I can stay right in the moment.

And thank God that for now… this very moment… I am safe. I am loved. And you are, too.

Happily Ticked Off Tip #48: Everything is happening perfectly. Just surrender and stop fighting. You don’t have to like it, but acceptance makes it easier to decide what you can change, what you can’t, and allows for wisdom to know the difference.

My book is available on Amazon. (Note: It’s a special ed journey… your kid doesn’t need to have Tourettes to relate!) Follow me on Twitter@AndreaFrazerWrites or on Facebook.

Today we moved Rex’s grandma out of her mobile home. She had lived there for 20 years, but when her only son, Rex’s dad, died suddenly, it became too much for her to live alone.

Grandma Stella doesn’t drive. She reminded us of that frequently in between sobs of grief and scattered thoughts.

“Did you know my son died?”

“Yes,” I’d answer, holding her hand.

“That bastard sold my car!”

“No one loves me,” she’d cry.

“But we’re all here. We have food. And will take you wherever you want.”

She’d light up. “Oh, how wonderful!” Then she’d go dark. “Do you know my son died?” Enter the sobs followed by a quick burst of anger. “THAT BASTARD SOLD MY CAR!”

Round and round she’d go, like a human version of Dory from Finding Nemo 3: The Dementia Years. Fear of finding her on the floor, and many calls from concerned neighbors, drove us to making better arrangements for her. And although she agreed to the move – which is more like a five star hotel than an old timer’s home – it was still very discombobulating for her.

When we came to pick her up this morning, her entire two bedroom coach was packed in old cardboard boxes and shopping bags with more notes than a college student at midterms.

“What the hell is going on here?” she’d ask.

“We’re moving, Grandma, remember?”

“No! No I don’t remember!” she’d bark. “I just want to drink my goddamn coffee. For Christ sake, I’m still in my nightie!”

This was true. She had damn good legs for her age, too.

No amount of coaxing could move her forward. She’d just sit down in her husband’s old rocking chair, her whole family in front of her, only to complain about being shoved into a new home where no one loves her. All the talk in the world about a movie theater, a lovely one bedroom apartment, cafe, restaurant and classes wasn’t cutting it. “It sounds nice, but where the hell’s the pool?” she’d moan.

The goal was to get her out of the house before the actual movers arrived to cushion the blow, but no such luck. There she was when Javier and Rocco showed up. For whatever fucking who knows why reason some miraculous reason, she remained very calm while they were there. “Don’t forget my rosary…” “Don’t forget my brass ducks.” “Hey, do I need this bra? My tits haven’t seen this much cleavage space since 1967.”

While James sister and mom went ahead to the new place with the movers to get her furniture and clothes set up, Rex and I took her to Trader Joes to buy her fruit and vegetables vodka and wine. While sampling the coffee, I showed her off to a lovely worker named Judy.

“Stella is 97,” I bragged. “Can you believe how strong she is to move into a new place?”

Judy was enchanted with Stella’s zest for conversation and split between her teeth (most everybody is, minus her new neighbors who will likely be tired of her asking where the elevator is by Day 2.)

At the end of our gab session, Judy remarked, “Stella, God is with you!” to which Stella retorted, “Cut the crap, Judy.”

A real testament to the fact that Trader Joe’s hires only saints, she casually replied, “But it’s true. I’m not a religious person, but I know God is around. And Stella, he is here for you.” What could Stella say? “You know what, Judy, I believe that you believe that!”

Then she flirted with a 50 -year-old stocker named Rene who gave her a free bouquet of roses on our way out the door.

I can’t help but think life is a lot like Stella’s move. It’s heart wrenching, exciting and ridiculously whimsical all at once. In between the tears and truck diesel and “where the hell did all my hangers go” confusion are samples of coffee, God and a handful of flowers.

Somehow, we make it through.

May your week be a good one, friends. And, if you’re in doubt, just be like Stella and clutch your pillow… taking it one step at a time.

Happily Ticked Off Tip #47: When life changes unexpectedly, grab your pillow if you must but don’t go to sleep – keep walking… one step at a time.

My book is available on Amazon. (Note: It’s a special ed journey… your kid doesn’t need to have Tourettes to relate!) Follow me on Twitter@AndreaFrazerWrites or on Facebook.

Just when I thought I might have every last bit of energy sucked out of me subbing for Middle Schoolers, the dawning of a new and glorious day is rising for this tired writer. In three words, it is SUBBING. IN. HIGHSCHOOL.

These kids sit still. They don’t talk over me. They don’t take selfies of their butts (at least not in front of me) and they actually leave the floor looking like a floor instead of a paper airplane meets Tajin powder factory.

In having a quieter classroom, I’ve had time to feel something that I haven’t felt in over a few months. What is that strange feeling you might ask? Oh, it’s serenity! Quiet, calm dear Jesus I can breathe serenity.

In breathing in the glorious flow of the past few days, I had to admit that while things have been dicey the past few months, I have not been in the bowels of self-pity and despair that non-sober thinking Andrea might have been. Instead, I’ve dealt with what has happened. I’ve cried, I’ve had a few pissed off moments, but in general, I’ve not only handled my business but been of service to my fellow workers, friends and family in the process.

Here are the 10 items that have saved my booty. I hope they resonate with you, too! (So many quotes are by my favorite writer, Anne Lamott. Anne, if you’re reading this, feel free to come for tacos on Tuesday. We start promptly at 630)

Prayer: Every morning for 5 minutes I pray. (On the days I forgot, my life wasn’t as calm.)

2) Meditation: Every morning for 5 minute I sit still and listen. (They say prayer is talking to God and Meditation is listening. I add in coffee because in Andrea language it is also helpful to be awake!)

3) Reading for a Spiritual Boost: I read something spiritual every day. Sometimes it’s my Bible, sometimes a devotional, or sometimes something from a favorite writer like Anne Lamott. (Just reading these quotes from her reminds me that someone out there feels just like I do. That to me is God in action.)

4) Reading for Fun

Even if it’s only for 10 minutes, I try and read a book that is just for entertainment. I’m currently reading Fablehaven. It’s my son’s recommendation. I don’t love it. But I love that he’s 16 and wants me part of his world. It also keeps me out of the fables I tend to create in my own head if my brain is too unoccupied.

5) Gratitude Lists: My husband and I send five things we are grateful for each day to a set of friends. I also do this with a friend from my If You Don’t Drink You Don’t Get Drunk Program Great Spiritual Practice. What started out feeling so awkward and cheesy has 100% changed my life. My brain automatically now goes to what is working instead of what isn’t. (Note: If I waited for life to get better to get grateful, I’d still be waiting. The great miracle of gratitude lists is that in doing so your life does get better, because your thinking improves. And perspective is, indeed, everything!)

6) Showing Up Early/Staying Late: I am almost always on time now for work. I don’t do it just to look good. I do it because I’m it keeps me from rushing. In not rushing, there’s more time for error. There’s more time for casual conversation with the school secretary or the student who wants to know, for the fourteen thousanth time, when his vocab quiz is going to be. Extra time means less stress which means there’s more room for God to operate in the magical space between the chaos.

7) Asking People About THEM: As much as I enjoy my favorite three subjects, Me Myself and I, I can’t tell you what joy I get from hearing other people’s stories. Not only is it fun to see people light up (or vent) but I’m selfish: It keeps me from thinking about me me me. It keeps me humble and, to say it again, in gratitude.

8) Journaling: This is something I just began again. It’s absolutely so calming. Just the act of printing on the page slows down my ADHD fast racing brain. I used to do it for the first 20 minutes in the morning per Julia Cameron’s Artist Way directive, but that time is now left to God. Instead, I plug it in during a slow class or on a break.

9) Laughter: When I remember that I’m not so important, but God is, I can let go and just laugh. This often means reminding myself before I pick up my kids to not have to win every single argument. It means turning on Grace and Frankie instead of cleaning the bathroom. And when people don’t behave, which they often do not, I just pretend I’m living in a Neil Simon play and watch the wacky stories of my life unfold around me.

10) Writing: Every day I try to write. It gives me a sense of purpose and connection. My blog isn’t as fancy as I’d like it. I don’t podcast or market as much as I’d like. But instead of focusing on what isn’t working, I focus on what is. I cut myself a break.

There’s so much more I could add, but doing these 10 things allows me to build the framework for these other items. Without them, I couldn’t battle my perfectionism. I couldn’t exercise or have the stamina to clean the house or set expectations for my kids. These 10 things were not natural things for me. I incorporated them slowly.

And don’t get me wrong – they were incredibly inconvenient. But so are newborns and puppies. You don’t get the cuteness and lifelong companions if you’re not willing to be selfless and clean up the poo – even at 2am. My serenity is always in direct proportion to how willing I am to be inconvenienced.

Leave a Comment!

What about you? What are some things you do every day that keep you sane? (Or what are you willing to start doing?)

Until next time,

Happily Ticked Off Tip #45: Your serenity level will always be in direct proportion to how willing you are to be inconvenienced.

My book is available on Amazon. (Note: It’s a special ed journey… your kid doesn’t need to have Tourettes to relate!) Follow me on Twitter@AndreaFrazerWrites or on Facebook.

A few years ago if someone told me bad months would pass, I’d have wanted to punch them in the throat.

Then for the past two months I had the sub job from hell, my father-in-law died, another one of my family members began to lose their marbles, one of our sinks hit the skids, the dog now has a lump on her back, one kid got rejected from a club they had really wanted to join, I dealt with church moving grief and we continue to have dish wars that often end in me feeling like I am either too hard, too soft but most of all… not eating on clean flatware.

But I can honestly say that through it all, I have held on. Because I knew that this, too, shall pass.

And whatever you are going through, if you can hold on to that for tonight, I can promise tomorrow will get better.

As many of you know, I’ve struggled for years to find my higher power. I have wrestled with the guilt of not fitting into an evangelical mold that I thought was going to save me. But I had misplaced religion with faith. I had misplaced fear of not being good enough with an impossible Biblical task list.

I have many friends who promise me that Jesus is the answer to feeling good enough. I adore them and their strong foundation for living. But for me, it took letting go of a Biblical model, and a good dose of 12 step, to get serenity. I don’t apologize for this. I’m just being honest.

I have solidly landed in the place of Anne Lamott meets Lin Manuel Miranda when it comes to my faith and, well, I couldn’t be more grateful. That said, the Evangelical devil still sometimes shouts at me. It comes in the form of angry shame poking at me:

Scary as that shame can feel, I can’t do the “Must Do’s” anymore to fit into some Christian design for living that only one group of people adhere to. There’s other interpretations. I’m not such a pile of poo for leaning toward those. That said, I’m not ready to give up Jesus. He still calls me. In fact, when I pray to him, and I comb the scriptures and his messages, I see nothing about hard core “Must Do’s.” I do, however, see a hell of a lot of love and acceptance. Yeah, filling up on that feels amazing. (It’s either that or a tube of Trader Joe’s Ho Ho’s. Jesus is better for my figure.)

“This concept of yours? That’s not love, that’s wishful thinking to create a God based on your human understanding,” many of my church friends have told me. “That’s you wanting to play God.”

Comments like that had me second guessing myself, but I trudged ahead with my new found peace anyway. My serenity must have irritated a friend of mine, because when I told her about my new found contentment she remarked, “Of course you feel relaxed. That’s exactly where the devil wants you.”

Side Note: When someone is struggling with something spiritual, telling them that they are falling into the clutches of Satan’s evil grip is not particularly helpful.

Last week felt particularly stressful. Between burying my husband’s father, some work shake ups, and being alone with my thoughts for an entire week while on vacation (oh yeah, this over-thinker sure knows how to do Spring Break!) I was pretty uncomfortable. That’s when I had a life changing conversation with my sponsor, Rosa. She reminded me to stop thinking and start praying. Specifically, “Pray that God shows you in a way you can understand.”

This was on Wednesday.

I started praying… really praying... every day. When I’d feel guilt or shame for bucking the system, I’d pray, “God please show me in a way I can understand.”

And then something incredible happened.

On Sunday I brought my friend Annie my new church. She brought a friend, Tina. Both had never attended services there.

As a reminder, this is a church I had attended as a little girl. I have had dreams about it for years. I could literally smell the pepper trees and feel the calming presence of God from the old school chapel. In those times of quiet, and in my dreams, I could almost hear the words, “Go home… go home…” so I finally did. For the past 3 months, despite feeling like a rebel without a clue, I kept going home. I felt safe there. It felt right. And on Easter I knew why.

When Tina asked me why I drove to this church instead of staying closer to home, I told her the above story.

Tina: “Where did you live as a little girl?”

Me: “Woodland Park.”

Tina: “I live in Woodland Park. What street did you live on?”

Me: “Martinez.”

Tina: “I live on Martinez.”

In my gut I knew before she even asked the last question.

Tina: “What house #?”

Me: “21309”

Tina: “That’s MY house!”

It was then, truly then, that I knew I had heard from the God of my understanding. All those peacocks… all those many eyes of God… I had finally listened. I found home. Literally. And for that amazing experience, on Easter Sunday no less, I am so grateful and humbled.

What Length Are You Willing to Go to Find Your Resurrection Story?

Happily Ticked Off Tip #43: Careful about asking God to show you in a way you can understand. He just might… and it’s unbelievable! Be ready!

My book is available on Amazon. (Note: It’s a special ed journey… your kid doesn’t need to have Tourettes to relate!) Follow me on Twitter@AndreaFrazerWrites or on Facebook.

I have decided, encouraged by this post by Fractured Faith, and a week of contemplation thanks to glorious… oh so glorious… vacation… that I’m giving up worry.

It really makes sense. I mean, why did I get sober, or why do I believe that this God of mine died and rose from the dead if he wasn’t going to take care of me and all my concerns that really, in the end, I can’t control anyway?

Yup, it’s time to tell my negative thinking to take a hike. I mean, if you looked at me, with all my gazillion friends (I’m blessed) and happy go lucky attitude, you might think I had it all together. And on many fronts I do. But inside there is always a bit of restless discontent or anxiety. If I were a doctor, I’d call it a bit of OCD mixed with a bit of ADHD and a sprinkle of good old fashioned neurotic wiring.

But I’m not a doctor. But I do know this: When I sleep, eat, laugh and connect with my friends, family and God, sometimes my little anxious friend goes away. Hey, I have an idea: Why don’t I just do that! Connect and laugh every day!

Not taking myself so seriously means quite a few things for my ego, though. Poor little ego. This shame thriller doesn’t get to invade my present with its insistence on dwelling on the past or the future. It means:

I’m not going to overthink if I’m a good enough Christian for not believing everything I read hook line and sinker in the Bible. (Yup, I worry about that.)

I’m not going to worry that I like meditating more than I like doing memorized prayers from my childhood. (Yup, I worry about that.)

I’m not going to worry that I’m 20 pounds over the bobble head Los Angeles model range. (Yup I worry about that. Well, no I don’t. The emaciated pre-menopausal crone is so 1996.)

I’m not going to worry that my house isn’t perfectly clean or that I have formica countertops with a burn mark circa Carol Brady 1968. (Yup, I sometimes worry about that.)

What Gives Me the Audacity to Kill Worry You Might Ask?

Because if I can show up to Good Friday services at a church located in a perfectly respectable tree lined suburb where someone found it 100% respectable to put their toilet on the curb next to my car, then I don’t have to be so buttoned up either.

It means I can give myself permission to enjoy pancakes with 3/4 of my family while the other 1/4 sleeps in. (Hey, newsflash: I don’t have to control everything! That even includes using plastic striped plates with an old table cloth and a crusty Maple Syrup container!)

It means just giving in and letting the dog get up on the fainting couch while I book some camping sites with my husband. My very cute husband who, might I add, loves it when I’m not quite so serious also.

It might mean dancing whackily in the kitchen to Maroon 5’s Sugar, eating M and M’s for breakfast on occasion and not getting as much done on my pilot this week as I’d hoped.

But given the incredible outpouring of love, friendship and family I had this vacation, I know that everything is happening exactly as it’s supposed to. A little discipline… a little letting go… and a lot of trusting that this God of mine rose above some oh too serious Pharisees in his day. I can rise above my worry, too, then. I can throw my head back, and laugh.

At the very least I can eat pancakes and, worse case, I don’t feel well? I know of a free toilet not too far away in an emergency.

Happily Ticked Off Tip #42: Give up worrying if you can by just not taking yourself so damn seriously.

My book is available on Amazon. (Note: It’s a special ed journey… your kid doesn’t need to have Tourettes to relate!) Follow me on Twitter@AndreaFrazerWrites or on Facebook.

So this week was hard but amazing. I’ve known for a long time with my teens that there’s this fine line between letting go and setting boundaries.

But deeper than that is the underbelly of motivations. What am I doing from fear? What am I doing from my own selfish need to re-live pieces of my past through them? And, as was the case this week, what do I not know about what drives me?

That last place can be some pretty murky water for a control freak like me. I am lucky enough to have someone I really value. Who literally knows every single thing about me and still loves me (kind of a scary thing) and she pointed a bright flashlight into those dark waters to illuminate something out that I had no idea I was even doing.

What the Hell Are You Talking About, Andrea?

I had bought some lessons for one of my kids, but they weren’t practicing as much as I’d have liked them to. When I was frustrated about this, my sponsor said, “Are those lessons a gift?” I responded that they were, indeed, a gift. To which she said, “Then you need to stop having expectations about it. She can feel your expectations. Yuck.” Before I could get too offended she remarked, “That’s manipulating. And controlling.” (So much better! Thanks!)

Honestly, I was pissed. But I also trust her. She has not steered me wrong yet. When I get irked, it’s usually because she’s right. My ego just wants to down a six pack and eat a case of Oreos. But I didn’t get sober for my ego. I got sober to live in reality. And that means honoring the sad truth that when I’m irked enough, it’s never about the person, place or thing that’s bugging me. It’s always about me and my expectation. Not 80% of the time. not 99.8% of the time. 100% of time.

Like a masochist I dug further.

“But what about teaching my kid how to be responsible?” (Yeah, that seems reasonable. Plus, as Tuskany wisely pointed out, “Are lessons really a gift? Aren’t there some strings?” Yes! Yes there ARE I decided. Now I was really confused!)

To this my sponsor responded, “Life will teach them all the consequences that they need.”

Okay, that sounds nice on paper. But my bank account was vomiting in protest. “But I’m spending $200/month on this,” I balked. “That’s one expensive life lesson.”

My sponsor got silent. (That pretty much means Yoda is about to speak some serious truth. I braced myself. And good thing. Because what came next really shook me to my core in its brilliance.)

“How do you know that this ‘practice’ you want them to do is really going to change the outcome anyway? What if they are supposed to learn something by failing? Or maybe they won’t fail at all? Or maybe this ‘thing’ you are hoping they will be by taking these classes turns out not the be the thing God wants for them in the first place? Why do you think you know better than God? YOU ARE NOT GOD.”

Um, schooled.

NOTE: I use the word “they” to keep the privacy of the “he” and “she” people in my house. I am trying very carefully to honor them by pulling out my nuggets of learning – for what that is worth – and not compromise them with pics and details. Such is this stage of life. I adore them.

Happily Ticked Off Tip #39: You are not God. Stop predicting every outcome like you think you know everything and let your kids fail. In doing so life becomes the enemy, not you.

My book is available on Amazon. (Note: It’s a special ed journey… your kid doesn’t need to have Tourettes to relate!) Follow me on Twitter@AndreaFrazerWrites or on Facebook.